


DCU Slash Ficlets

by Salmon_Pink



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Community: 1drabble, Community: comicdrabbles, Community: slashthedrabble, Costume Kink, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Fisting, Gunplay, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted DCU ficlets, all featuring slash pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skip A Beat (Tim/Kon)

**Author's Note:**

> All ficlets under 500 words, all individually rated. Additional content notes, such as kinks and spoilers, included where necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim/Kon, rated PG-13. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "first".

Tim’s deeply involved in a complex schematic of Freeze’s latest cryo-gun when Kon lands in front of him and brusquely snatches the paperwork from his hands.

“That’s important,” Tim sighs.

Kon just shrugs and throws the blueprints over his head. “So is this,” he says simply.

And then his hands are on Tim’s shoulders and Tim barely has time to blink in confusion before he’s being tugged forward and those are Kon’s _lips_.

Specifically, those are Kon’s lips pressed against Tim’s own.

They’re soft and warm and somehow both gentle and firm at the same time.

Tim feels himself go very still, and Kon just takes the opportunity to slide one hand up into Tim’s hair. The thumb of the other hand brushes Tim’s neck, just beneath his ear, and Tim shivers despite himself. 

He hears Kon make a small, pleased noise, muffled between their mouths, and then Kon’s tongue is running against his bottom lip. And Tim has no idea why, except that apparently his body has seized control from his brain, but his mouth falls open like there’s no other option, which allows Kon’s tongue to press _inside_.

Kon tastes faintly of sugar and cherries and his mouth is so damn hot that Tim feels a little dizzy with it.

Kon’s tongue curls against his own, and somehow Tim’s right hand is on Kon’s waist, the other clutching at the sleeve of Kon’s t-shirt. Slippery slide of their tongues moving together, and Tim feels his face begin to heat up. 

Tickly sensation of Kon licking the roof of his mouth, and he’s coaxing Tim’s tongue forward and Tim can’t help but follow, until his tongue is in Kon’s mouth and _oh_. 

Kon’s _sucking_ Tim’s tongue, quick little pulses, and Tim’s fingers are clenching in the fabric of Kon’s sleeve in time to the rhythm of it. One hand cupping Tim’s jaw now, fingers running along the line of his cheekbone, and at some point Tim apparently pushed up on to his toes, and Kon makes another noise, this one _hungry_.

They break apart slowly, each breathing heavily, and Kon’s almost as flushed as Tim feels.

“What was that?” Tim whispers, still so close that they’re sharing one breath.

“Our first kiss,” Kon murmurs back, and his eyes are dark and intense and Tim shivers again. “I spent so long thinking about what it would be like that I figured I should just go for it already.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind Tim’s ear, and Tim feels himself lean into the touch.

“I like you, by the way,” Kon adds.

Tim feels his blush grow fiercer, and he can’t help the smile pulling at his lips. “You got the order wrong,” he admonishes playfully. “Confessions first, _then_ kisses.”

“Oh, better do this right then,” Kon grins back, before his expression falls serious again. “I _like_ you.”

Tim nods happily and pulls Kon close for their second first kiss.


	2. Deep On Down (Bruce/Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason, rated NC-17. Fisting. Written for [Slash The Drabble](http://slashthedrabble.livejournal.com), prompt "stretch".

“Come on, I can take it,” Jason hisses. His voice is hoarse, _raw_ , and he sucks in a deep breath, buries his face against the sheets. Just a moment, because he _needs_ this and he knows it’s written into every line of his brow, into the slightly unfocused sheen over his eyes, into the bite marks in his lower lip.

Just for a moment, and then his game-face is back on and he braces his elbows against the mattress, looks back over his shoulder. Smirking at Bruce, fucking _leering_ at him, letting his expression be a dare.

Bruce is sweating, his pupils so dilated his eyes are practically _black_ , and Jason feels his game-face falter for a second, because Bruce like this is the sexiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Reins his thoughts and his control back in, grins wide and knowing, and then Jason wriggles his ass a little, doesn’t even care what he looks like.

Judging by the way Bruce’s eyes _flare_ , he looks pretty good.

“Come on, B,” he goads. “You know I’m good for it, you know I can handle it!”

Bruce is still staring, not even _blinking_ , and Jason kind of hates how that intense gaze makes him feel like his skin is too small, and fucking _loves_ it.

“Bruce,” he murmurs huskily, and that’s apparently the magic word. Hand on the back of his neck, pushing his head down again, and Jason groans for it, pushes up against it a little just to feel how solid that grip is.

“Jason,” Bruce whispers, and it makes chills crawl up Jason’s spine.

And then Bruce’s other hand is moving over his ass again, and Jason reaches back blindly, one hand on his cheek and holding himself open. Wants it too bad to give a shit about how desperate he looks.

Three fingers in him again, and Jason growls, because that’s not what he wants, and then they’re moving free and _fuck_. Four fingers, thumb tucked inside, and Jason gasps, claws at the sheets, at his own skin. 

The stretch of it, the _burn_ , as Bruce pushes it all inside, as Bruce gives him his whole damn hand, and Jason’s keening, eyes rolling up in his head. Taking it all, feeling his body trying to clamp down on it, trying to pull Bruce deeper.

Always wanting deeper, wanting more, wanting Bruce inside of him in every way.


	3. Road-Head (Roy/Dick)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roy/Dick, rated NC-17. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "very bad ideas".

Roy breathes carefully through his nose, fingers gripping the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles are turning white. Trying to focus on the winding road in front of him, to not let everything cloud out in a haze of blurred green as the car kicks up a gear.

In his peripheral vision, he can see the fucking _obscene_ way Dick’s head is bobbing over his lap. Mouth tight and hot around Roy’s cock, delicious drag of his lips up and down the shaft that’s threatening to make Roy’s eyes roll up in his head. 

Anyone who passed them right now wouldn’t even be able to _see_ Dick, the way he’s ducked down like that. His hip pressing against the back of his seat, spine curved and hands braced on Roy’s thighs. Shoulders rippling beneath his thin white t-shirt in time to the movement of his head as he fucks his own mouth on Roy’s cock.

Of course, there isn’t actually anyone out on these roads to see them anyway. Just countryside and cliffs and sharp turns, the perfect place to enjoy their little joyride in the ridiculously hot Porsche they’ve ‘borrowed’ from Bruce’s collection for the afternoon.

“ _Shiiiit_ ,” Roy breathes as Dick presses his tongue up against the thick vein along the underside and starts to suck in earnest.

One hand leaves the steering wheel to settle firmly in Dick’s hair. Which is probably really fucking stupid, but right now Roy doesn’t care.

“Of all your terrible ideas, Shortpants, this is probably the craziest.”

Dick makes a long, complicated slurring sound around Roy’s cock, and Roy’s pretty damn impressed with himself that he can tell Dick’s saying, “You mean the _best_!”

He laughs, nudging the car around a steep bend, and Dick’s fingers dig into his jeans but he never stops sucking, strong pulses against sensitive skin.

Roy grins, feeling reckless and fuck-drunk and like he could keep going like this, keep driving, keep Dick’s mouth on him _forever_.

But tempting as the fantasy is, the next verge he sees, he’s pulling over.

After all, he’s gonna need both hands to return the favour…


	4. All The Frills (Jason/Tim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason/Tim, rated PG-13. Crossdressing. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "out with the old, in with the new".

“You can’t be serious,” Tim mutters, rifling through the drawer with increasingly annoyed movements.

“As a heart attack,” comes the reply behind him, and it’s only years of practice, years of working with _Batman_ that keep Tim from jumping out of his skin.

Another one of Tim’s alarm systems that Jason’s apparently dismantled so he can let himself into Tim’s apartment. _Again_. Tim doesn’t even have in him to be frustrated any more.

“You went through my clothes?” he asks, keeping his tone level and expressionless.

“Yep, it’s a new year, figured it’s time for a change,” Jason answers easily. Tim can _feel_ Jason’s eyes on him, sliding down his back along with the droplets of water from his damp hair. 

He resists the urge to pull his towel tighter around his waist, toes curling into the rug beneath him, and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“You threw out all my underwear?” Tim knows better than to goad Jason, but he can’t keep the sardonic exasperation from his voice.

“And replaced it,” Jason adds. Even without seeing his face, Tim can hear how much he’s enjoying himself.

Tim steels himself, finally turns to meet Jason’s eyes. “You replaced it with _this_ ,” he deadpans. “Am I supposed to be _grateful_?”

The scrap of fabric hanging from his finger is lace, deep red, with frills at the hips. _Panties_ , a whole damn drawer full of them, in reds and blacks and whites and pinks and yellows, ribbons and glitter and silk.

“Hey, I thought I was doing something nice,” Jason smirks. “Giving you a _gift_ , you know?”

“Don’t suppose you kept the receipts?” Tim shoots back.

“Oh, I’m not taking them back,” Jason shrugs, pushing away from the wall he’s been leaning against. “Way I see it, I bought you a present. It’s only polite you _wear_ it, don’t you think?”

Tim swallows around a suddenly dry throat. “Sure, Jason, I’ll wear them.”

Jason laughs, and he’s so slow as he crosses the room, like he has all the time in the world to drive Tim up the walls. “You’re usually a better liar than that.”

“I’ll wear them,” Tim lies again. Jason’s already so close and Tim’s body has forgotten how to move.

“Yes, you will,” Jason murmurs, fingers closing around Tim’s wrist. Tim’s heart races for the simple contact, nipples hardening as Jason’s gaze sweeps over his chest, a soft noise caught in his throat.

“In fact,” Jason whispers, leaning closer still. “I think you’re going to _show_ me.”

There’s no way Jason misses Tim’s shiver, pupils dilating as they sweep over Tim’s face, focus on his lips.

Tim’s knees feel weak.

And then Jason’s spinning on his heel, sauntering away from Tim with a casual wave over his shoulder.

“Later,” he calls nonchalantly, a threat and promise, and then Tim’s alone again.

With a drawer full of panties.

He stares down at them, tells himself he won’t wear them.

He already knows it’s another lie.


	5. Over A Barrel (Jason/Dick)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason/Dick, rated NC-17. Gunplay. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "barrel of a gun".

Dick’s lungs burn from holding his breath, fingers tangled in the sheets. His knees press into the mattress, hips aching a little from how wide his legs are spread. His skin feels hot enough to burn, fire in his blood, but the muzzle of the gun is cool against his flesh.

He tries desperately to shut it out, but he can’t help the way Bruce’s face dances behind his eyelids. Can’t help remembering the look on Bruce’s face when Dick had first visited the Cave in his Bludhaven Police uniform, the curl of Bruce’s lip and the anger in his eyes, because Dick had been stupid enough to bring a _gun_ into Batman’s sanctum.

Guns bring death and destruction, they ruin lives, Dick _knows_ that, has had that message seared into his soul since he met Bruce. But right now there’s a gun pressed between his shoulder blades, and Dick isn’t fighting it, is struggling not to whine for it, teeth digging into the pillow.

“Knew you’d enjoy this,” Jason murmurs behind him, and Dick can practically see his smirk, even with his eyes closed. Gun sliding down his spine, so slow it raises goosebumps across his skin, and Dick can feel himself sweating, struggling to keep his hips from bucking.

Trailing lower, and Dick can’t hold back the soft little whimper when the gun presses between his cheeks. Spreading him, slipping down the cleft of his ass and catching on his rim, and Jason laughs for the wrecked little noise he makes.

Shaking a little, scared and fucking _exhilarated_ , and Dick’s probably seconds away from suffocating himself with the pillow. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s forgotten how to breathe anyway, ears ringing with the sex in Jason’s voice as he hisses, “If only Daddy could see you now.”


	6. Sunbeaming (Tim/Kon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim/Kon, rated PG-13. Written for [1Drabble](http://1drabble.livejournal.com), prompt "sun".

It’s a gorgeous day, sun high in the sky. Kon’s stretched out on the roof of Titans Tower, arms behind his head, stripped down to his boxers because it’s way too hot for denim. 

He’d be naked if he could get away with it, but the last time he tried that Bart had managed to set off a pretty spectacular explosion in the labs, testing some new theory he’d read up on that morning. Kon had flown straight towards the noise, reacting on instinct, worried they were being attacked by supervillains or something, and in all the panic he’d kind of forgotten about his lack of clothing.

The other Titans didn’t let him live that one down for _months_ , so he’s not about to give them more ammunition.

A shadow creeps over him, and Kon listens to the steady rhythm of Tim’s heart as he settles down at Kon’s side, sitting cross-legged and staring thoughtfully out over the bay. Of course, it’s only Kon’s mind that translates the look as thoughtful, because the Red Robin mask remains as blank and impassive as ever. But there’s something about the relative looseness of Tim’s shoulders, the distracted tilt of his head, that makes it seem like he’s lost inside his head.

“Is it safe for you to be out here?” he teases, tapping his knuckles against Tim’s thigh. “Sure you won’t burst into flames?” Because the Bats have always been about shadows and darkness, and since Kon’s resurrection from death it feels like Tim’s been especially adverse to sunlight.

“Hysterical,” Tim deadpans, and then he surprises Kon by shifting on to his back, lying there as if this is something they do all the time, gazing up into the sky.

Kon shoots him a suspicious and slightly wary look. “What’s up?”

Tim rolls on to his side, touching his cowl so the lenses slide up, revealing his eyes. He’s looking at Kon like he’s an idiot, like it’s _obvious_ why Tim’s suddenly taken to sunbathing in full uniform. “You’re lying on the roof half-naked,” he says bluntly, a tiny smile curving the corners of his lips.

“Perv,” Kon grins, and then he’s pouncing, rolling them over and over until he’s got Tim sprawled on top of him, until he can get one hand beneath Tim’s cape and squeeze his ass firmly enough to make Tim gasp for him. “How long have you been watching me?”

Tim doesn’t answer, which probably translates as ‘a really long time’. He kisses Kon instead, slow and wet and _deep_ , writhing a little above him in this way that’s already making Kon see stars.

“All that Kevlar and leather’s gotta suck in this heat,” Kon murmurs against Tim’s lips.

“It does,” Tim agrees, hips shifting maddeningly. “You should definitely help me out of it.” 

Kon sniggers, already doing just that, fingers working the belts and catches, the idea of Tim’s bare skin against his own even hotter than the sun beating down on them both.


	7. Devil In A Green Dress (Guy/Kyle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guy/Kyle, rated PG-13. Crossdressing. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "new dress".

“Just give me a moment to change,” Kyle calls over his shoulder, already stripping out of his paint-spattered t-shirt. He didn’t mean to get so caught up in his work, but it’s not like Guy has any problem making himself comfortable while he waits, and they don’t exactly go for restaurants that require strict reservations.

“Gonna put on something pretty for me?” Guy drawls, leaning against the fridge. He’s already helped himself to a beer.

Kyle rolls his eyes, stops in the doorway to give Guy a sardonic look. “Yeah, I’ve got a little black cocktail dress I’ve been just _dying_ to wear,” he jokes.

And then his stomach flips, because Guy’s eyes narrow and, oh, Kyle’s fairly sure he can see Guy’s pupils dilate from across the room.

He’s supposed to be grabbing a shirt from his bedroom, or at least he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, because suddenly his brain feels sluggish and mushy. And Guy’s _leering_ at him, sauntering closer like a tiger closing in on its prey.

“That so?” Guy’s murmuring, and Kyle’s mouth feels dry, sweat prickling between his shoulder blades as Guy’s hand settles on his waist. “Bet you’d look good, wearing a dress for me.”

It doesn’t seem possible that the atmosphere can turn from light and airy to thick and humid so damn quickly. Kyle hears himself make a noise that’s soft and incoherent as Guy’s thumb drags against the hollow of his hip above the waistline of his jeans.

“Something slinky,” Guy rumbles, gaze raking down Kyle’s bare chest, and Kyle has to close his eyes because he can _see_ it. See himself in a dress that’s tight across his torso, but with a loose skirt, so he’d be able to feel the fabric brushing against his thighs as he moved. 

“It’d be easy, like that,” Guy smirks, lips so close that Kyle can taste the beer on his breath. “Could get my hands on you anywhere I wanted. Just slide my hand up your thigh, nothing to stop me.”

Kyle’s never exactly played around with this kind of thing before, never dressed up like that, but he can feel himself nodding. “I could - the ring,” he stammers, opening his eyes to watch the way Guy keeps getting distracted by his mouth.

“No, no constructs,” Guy growls, and Kyle’s legs feel weak and shaky. “Want to take you _shopping_ , find you something just right.”

“We can do that,” Kyle agrees, licking his lips.

And then Guy’s stepping back and it’s like Kyle can breathe again.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, giving Kyle another leisurely once-over. “For now, food.”

Kyle mentally shakes himself, because yeah, he’s hungry too, although walking to the café with a hard-on isn’t going to be pleasant. 

“You should be flattered,” Guy insists, sitting heavily on the couch as Kyle searches for looser-fitting jeans. “There’s not many people I'll do something as boring as _shopping_ for.”

Kyle throws the jeans at Guy’s head.


	8. Scaled (Bruce/Dick)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Dick, rated R. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Costume kink. Written for [Comic Drabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com), prompt "bond".

“My word is my bond,” Bruce says solemnly. 

Dick wants to snort at that, because the stoic-and-reserved-Batman-act has never really worked on him and he’s certainly not about to start buying it now. 

Just because Bruce _says_ he’s not going to laugh, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to double-over as soon as Dick steps out of the bathroom.

But screw it, he’s _doing_ this. He’s had this fantasy for so long he can’t even remember how it started, and it feels like if he waits another moment, he’ll explode, or scream, or maybe just frantically jerk himself off like he usually does when these particular thoughts cross his mind.

He’s kind of making things worse, because he’s supposed to be calm but he just _isn’t_ , and the more he thinks about what he’s doing, the more he winds himself up.

The fabric is already tight enough, and it grows more uncomfortable as he grows harder beneath it.

It’s now or never.

Dick steps out of the bathroom into the expanse of Bruce’s bedroom.

Weirdly, he feels nervous. Nervous and _exposed_ , and that’s ridiculous because he’s actually dressed right now, albeit in very little. But he’s been naked in here, been tied to the bed in here, eaten food off of Bruce’s equally naked body in here. They’ve made love in every position imaginable, and considering Bruce’s mind and Dick’s flexibility, that’s a _lot_ of positions. 

But, yeah, he still feels nervous.

He fights his body’s urge to fidget, but Bruce is just _staring_ at him, and Dick drops his eyes and shifts on the spot.

The green Robin shorts dig into the tops of his thighs, although that’s to be expected, considering he hasn’t worn them since he was a teenager. The fabric strains a little over the curve of his cock, and he feels the irrational need to cup his hands in front of himself, but he manages to shake it off.

Bruce is _still_ staring. At least he isn’t laughing, and it’s that thought that gives Dick the strength to meet his gaze.

He can’t help the groan that escapes him at the sight of such open _lust_ on Bruce’s face.

“Come here,” Bruce orders, and his voice is thick and rough.

Dick obeys without thought. He drops to his knees in front of Bruce on instinct, and the noise Bruce makes is almost a _growl_.

Dick shivers, fingers digging into his thighs, looking up through his hair.

“You’re going to wear those for me _all night_ ,” Bruce informs him.

Dick licks his lips and nods. He reaches down, palming himself through the shorts, needing the pressure, the friction.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “Show me how much you’ve wanted this.”

Dick closes his eyes and does as he’s told.


End file.
